Is to Fear Life
by Gina King
Summary: [now] Logan wants trust [and then] Rory wants a kiss. [a series of significant moments in a relationship that has yet to happen]
1. Prologue

**Title: **Is to Fear Life (The title is part of a quotation from Bertrand Russell: _To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.)_

**Rating**: PG for now. Y'know, I just pluck these ratings out of thin air. I have no clue.

**Summary**: I don't want to spoil it too much, but it's more or less a series of incidents in a relationship between Rory and Logan, that may or may not (have) happen(ed). Italicized text indicates a flashback.

**Disclaimer**: I will soon own a beautiful winter jacket, but so far as Gilmore Girls & co. are concerned, I own squat.

**AN**: I've only ever written R/T because I find the idea of writing Jess daunting and Tristan was less defined on the show (read: more liberty with his character permitted) and interesting enough to contrast with Rory. Bear with me as I attempt Frau Huntzberger.

* * *

**i: Prologue**

"I really should've confirmed that those potatoes were okay."

As he grabbed her hand and gravity took hold of her ankles, she saw a life she'd yet to live flash before her eyes.


	2. Always the Last to Know

**Title: **Is to Fear Life (The title is part of a quotation from Bertrand Russell: _To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.)_

**Rating**: PG… I guess?

**AN**: This is what I get for starting a fic the day before an episode. Due to 5.10: _But Not as Cute as Pushkin_, I've made certain adjustments which in effect semi-spoil the episode. I also skip over a scene that is in the actual episode, between Rory and her grandfather. I finished this the day 5.10 aired but FF has been screwing me over so I'm only posting it now. **EDIT: **Reposted the first half because I sort of hated it. Hopefully it flows better now (and it also works with the next chapter).

**Disclaimer**: Everybody involved in this fic, including myself, belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and The WB. They are collectively my daddy.

* * *

**I: Always the Last to Know**

"Marty, slow down!" Rory ran into his back when he stopped abruptly. "Ow," she rubbed her nose as he turned around.

"What are you doing here?" he asked sharply.

Rory looked around in confusion. It was a house party hosted by one of Logan 's innumerable friends.

"Um, hanging out?" The were outside now, on the sidewalk in front of the aforementioned house. Hugging herself for warmth, Rory wondered where Logan had tossed her coat.

"Are you dating him, Rory?"

"Who?" The cold had numbed her, and all she could think about was luring Marty back inside.

"Damn it, Rory, you know who!"

His anger surprised her, and she forgot about her discomfort. "You mean Logan ?" She paused. "Well, um, we're kind of, uh..." She trailed off, unsure of the answer.

"It's a simple question, Rory," Marty gritted out.

"Well, we're on a date tonight… sorta."

"Jesus, Rory!" he cried, smacking a tree in frustration. Startled, she could only stare at him with wide eyes. "You know how I feel about those guys! No," he corrected himself, "you know what those guys are like! They're jerks. They only care about whether they're having a good time and when the next one will be."

" Logan 's not like that. He's-"

"What? Spoiled? Arrogant? Rude? Cocky? Condescending? Bourgeois?"

"Marx?" She blinked. "Marty, the only time I've seen you two interact before tonight he was nothing but friendly. Colin was the ass."

"Is there even a difference? Those guys are all the same."

"What's going on? Why is this such a problem?"

"A week ago you couldn't stop talking about how much you hate him, and now you're on a date? What's that all about?"

Rory shrugged. "I honestly don't know. One minute I feel like tearing his head off, the next thing I know, I'm having an amazing time at dinner with him."

"Whatever," he mumbled, looking away.

Rory put a hand on his arm. Intent on gathering her words, she missed his flinch at her touch. "I appreciate your concern, Marty, but I can take care of myself. This shouldn't bother you," she said gently.

"But it does! You're my friend, and he's only using-"

"Don't finish that sentence," Rory cut him off sharply, her eyes flashing.

Marty averted his own. "Rory, I just..." He focussed on something over her shoulder and she glanced behind her to see Logan on the porch, casually leaning against a pillar, arms crossed over his chest. Finn was there and they appeared to be talking, but Logan caught her eye long enough to confirm his presence was not accidental. Marty's voice turned her back around. "I know him. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm a twenty-year-old girl, not some porcelain princess," she shot back, irritated. "I have enough people in my life trying to protect me. I don't need you questioning my actions on top of everyone else. You're supposed to be my friend, Marty," she finished, hurt.

The anger seemed drain out of him. "Your friend," he repeated. Sighing, he offered flatly, "I just don't think you know what you're getting yourself into."

Clenching her fists, she heard a cacophony of voices: Lorelai, Richard, Emily, Paris, Dean... "I am so sick of people thinking they know what's best for me," she said bitterly. "I'm not as innocent or ignorant as you think. There's a lot you don't know about me, Marty."

He stared at her for a moment. "You're right," he replied quietly, stepping around her and returning to the house.

She was still staring blankly at the spot he had vacated when Logan materialized at her side, hands in his pockets. "Everything all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess," she muttered, turning to him. "Actually, no. I'm going to have to fix that, I think." His face was carefully neutral, but she detected the tiniest bit of concern. "Why didn't you step in?" she asked.

A slight shrug. "Why would I?"

"Huh," she nodded slowly, acclimating to the concept. Hands on her hips, she cocked her head thoughtfully. "I guess the guys I've dated have been a bit more over-protective. You know, swing first, check with the girl later."

"You're all grown up, Ace. You seemed to have the situation under control, and it wasn't my business. Besides," he bent his head toward her to catch her eye, "I'm not the jealous type."

Rory corrected him. "Oh, it's not like that. Marty's just looking out for me."

His face broke into the familiar half-smile, half-smirk. "That is so cute," he said, chucking her under the chin.

She swatted his hand away, annoyed. "Don't do that. Don't belittle my friendship with Marty."

"Rory," he spoke slowly, as if she had comprehension issues. "Marty's in love with you. Why else do you think he's always hanging around?"

"Because we're friends," she retorted. "Guys and girls can have platonic relationships, Logan . It's evidently a concept you're unfamiliar with—"

Rolling his eyes, Logan cut her off. "Don't be so naive." He gestured toward the house. "I'm going to get a drink. Coming?"

"In a second," she responded stiffly. Shrugging, he strolled off, leaving her to lean back against Marty's tree. Shivering, she stared blankly down the street, trying to resist the urge to cry.

"Why am I always the last to know?" Rory wondered out loud.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Stop being so naive, Rory.

_The words spun in her head as she slipped into her suite. Paris, sitting on the couch reading, didn't look over but tossed out a, "I told you she was after our men."_

_Ignoring her, Rory dropped her coat on the table. "Can you believe Marty thinks Logan likes me?" she said casually. "He even called me naive! As if I can't tell when a guy likes me. It's crazy, right?" Forcing a laugh, she eyed her roommate's reaction._

_"You can't," Paris stated, again without taking her eyes off her page._

_"What do you mean? Yes, I can. It's pretty obvious. I can tell," Rory said defensively._

_Finally looking up, the blonde repeated, "No, you can't. Tristan? Jess?"_

_The names gave Rory pause. "Those were years ago," she dismissed. Shaking her head, Paris resumed reading. "Besides, what happened to friendships between guys and girls? Can't people be friends without sex getting in the way?" She grimaced unconsciously. "I can't believe you slept with Doyle."_

_Slamming her book shut, Paris stood. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she asked evenly. _

_Rory back-pedalled. "Nothing, it's just surprising," she said quickly, donning her most innocent expression. _

_Her roommate's eyes narrowed. "Look, Gilmore. The little media tsar likes you. It's a fact. I know it, Marty knows it, the tsar's entourage knows it, your entire class and your prof know it. Everyone knows it but you. In fact, my sources tell me—"_

"_Your sources?"_

_"—he hasn't so much as touched a piece of Prada-clad ass tossed his way in three weeks. You officially re-entered the market—" Paris pretended to think about it for a split second, "—exactly three weeks ago! Wow, what a coincidence," she finished sarcastically._

_"He didn't even know I was off the market in the first place."_

_"Well he knows now."_

"_What does that even mean?"_

_"It means that your grandmother is planning the engagement party with his mother as we speak, while their husbands outline the pre-nup. Now, whether he wants you for a notch on his bookshelf—"_

_"Paris!"_

_"—because, let's be honest, I doubt there's space left on his bedposts, or for the future Mrs. Media Tsar—"_

_"I'm keeping my last name," Rory muttered._

_"—he's into you. So shelve the innocent act because no one's buying it." Stalking to her room, she shouted as the door slammed behind her, "You should be grateful he's taller than you!"_

_Surprised, Rory stared at the door for a minute. Just when she thought she was getting used to Paris… _Worst day, ever_. How had she managed to upset everyone she knew?_

_Frowning, Rory retreated to her room to call her mother. She refused to acknowledge the rush she'd gotten from Paris's apparent confirmation, which wasn't so hard accompanied as it was by a knot of dread in her stomach. Until she had more convincing evidence, she wasn't taking anything for granted. She was a journalist after all. _Right_. Besides, analysing how she felt right now was moot. Especially since she mostly felt like throwing up. _

_She picked up the phone to dial her mom's cell when another part of what Paris said sank in. So he thought everything was a game, did he? Grinning deviously, she selected speed dial for her grandfather, instead._

"_Hi, Grandpa? I have a favour to ask…"_

_The next afternoon, feeling very smug, a tap at her window disturbed Rory. Saving the file she was working on, she turned from her laptop to see what caused the distraction and was surprised that, rather than a cryptic envelope, Logan stood on the other side of the pane. Trying to suppress a grin, she strolled over and opened the window. _

_"Forget your tape?" she asked pleasantly._

_"Nope," he answered, hefting himself up on the windowsill._

_Panicked, Rory stepped back. "What are you doing?"_

_In the process of slinging a leg into her room, he paused to glance at her. "As an aspiring reporter, Ace, you should be aware that questions with obvious answers only annoy your sources."_

_"You can't come in here!" Her outrage warred with satisfaction at seeing him try to navigate the narrow entrance. _

_With a final heave, he landed on his feet in her room. _He couldn't fall on his ass like a normal person, could he?_ Heaven forbid he experience a less than graceful moment. "I had to. Can't very well do this from outside," he added, dropping to one knee and pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. Popping the box open, he spoke solemnly. "Will you?"_

_Rory couldn't be sure, but she thought she felt her chin scrape against the hardwood floor at her feet. _

_Ignoring her reaction, Logan stood, slipped the ring on her finger and continued. "Richard stopped by this morning to fill me in on the details and, wanting to do this properly, I picked up a ring after class and came straight here." Still in shock, Rory let him grasp her hands in his and pull her close. "You've made me a very happy man, Rory." Leaning closer so their lips were nearly touching, he breathed, "Say you will."_

_The flock of butterflies in her stomach that took flight at that point brought her to her senses and she pushed him away. At that distance, she noticed the glint in his eyes and the smirk on his lips, confirming she'd been had. "What?" he said innocently._

_Rather than anger, however, she felt amusement. Without an audience, his jokes were somewhat entertaining. "I just don't think it's going to work, Logan," she replied carefully, as though letting him down gently. "My mom really doesn't want ugly grandkids."_

_"I'm willing to keep trying if you are."_

_Laughing at his earnest expression, she raised her hand to examine the bauble he'd placed there. It was large and gaudy, blatantly brass and glass. "I will keep the ring, though," she nodded, satisfied._

_"Hey, I have a deposit on that!"_

_"I'll pay you back the quarter," Rory assured him, her eyes twinkling. _

_Placing his hands in his pockets, he cocked his head to one side and smiled slightly. "Why don't you let me take you out instead?"_

_"Oh! Um, I, uh..." she stammered, looking away and nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear that immediately fell forward again._

_"It's a simple question, Ace."_

_His condescension riled her and she mentally kicked herself for being so flustered. "Sure," she tossed back defiantly, picking up the gauntlet he'd thrown. _

_He grinned at her tone and stepped forward, tucking the lock of hair back again. "Thursday?"_

_"Works for me," she answered nonchalantly, attempting to stifle the buzz she felt at his touch._

_Smiling, Logan backed away. "Thursday it is. I'll use the door if it's all the same to you. This dorm must have been a convent at some point," he mumbled, frowning at the window before slipping out of her room, leaving Rory rooted in place, wondering what she'd just agreed to and why she was always the last to know._

**AN II**: If you've read this far and have not seen _But Not as Cute as Pushkin_, I assume you're ok being spoiled. Rory calls her grandfather in to pull a prank on Logan after he embarrassed her in class with a fake profession of love. Richard more or less assures him that in light of his declaration, their engagement has been arranged and all appropriate documents and newspaper alerts confirmed.


	3. Hit and Miss

**Title: **Is to Fear Life

**Rating**: PG-13?

**AN**: Hope this one is better than the first chapter was. I might just fail my philosophy exam as a result of this! Thanks for the reviews, feedback is always encouraging.

**Disclaimer**: If I owned these kids I'd sure as hell write them better than I do.

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**II: Hit and Miss**

Rory flopped into her chair, blinded by the unmarred white of her monitor. It taunted her, flickering eerily in the darkened press room. The black cursor blinked against a sea of white, like a lighthouse lamp revolving in and out of sight, seeking to draw lost vessels to safety. Rory didn't feel like much of a seaman at the moment, unfortunately.

"Dirty," she muttered before she could catch herself. When had she become her mother? As if on cue, her cell rang.

Logan . Right. That's when.

"Hey."

"What's up?"

"Starting to understand how Harrison Ford felt in Blade Runner," she answered, surveying the green-hued room.

"Still working on that article, huh?" She heard the smirk in his voice.

"If by working you mean waxing poetical about a blank screen, then yes, yes I am."

"This is so unexpected from a star reporter like yourself, Ace. What could be so distracting that you find yourself without a scoop mere hours before deadline?" He knew full well what—or rather who—had been occupying her every spare moment.

She gritted her teeth, irritated. "Did you call for a reason, or simply to remind me that some people get by on the paper with_out_ any actual writing?"

There was a pause, and she sensed she'd hit a nerve. "Well," he finally mused. "Nice to have that out in the open."

"I'm sorry, Logan ," she sighed. "I'm just frustrated. I can't think of a single thing to write. Actually, even if I could, it's too late to find sources or external input." Fatigue and stressed weighed her down. "What am I going to do?"

"First," he replied gently, "You're going to get the hell out of that room. Next, we'll dress you up sweet and sharp for dinner with my parents. Then,—"

"What?" she uttered dumbly.

"I said, first, you're going to—"

"I _heard_ what you said! Logan , I can't do this tonight. I got out of Friday night dinner with my grandparents so I could finish this article, effectively alienating my mother for at least twenty-four hours. I can't ditch her with them and then go to dinner somewhere else!" Rory said desperately. "She'd kill me!"

"You haven't told her yet, have you?"

"That's not the point. And how am I going to complete my feature?"

"Well, if you'd let me finish—"

Hearing a beep on the line, Rory cut him off. "I have another call." Checking the caller ID, she groaned. "It's my mom."

"Shit. Rory, listen," Logan suddenly sounded nervous. "I wasn't done—"

"Look, I have to take this. I'll call you back later."

"Rory, wait, I—"

"Bye," she said quickly, switching to the other line. "Stephen Glass, how may I help you?"

"Funny." Lorelai did not sound amused. "Listen, kid, you had better start spinning quick and spinning true."

Rory was at a loss. "Mom?"

"I guess in theory, when you carry a child for nine months, go through hours of excruciating labour, and spend twenty years raising and nurturing it, that would make you its mother."

The pieces started to fall into place. "Mom," Rory began.

Lorelai went on as though she hadn't spoken. "Of course, usually a mother is privy to certain information ahead of others. Not even that many others, just the others who fall behind her in the simple hierarchy of blood relation. You know, like grandparents, future in-laws, and so on."

"I didn't—"

"Still," her mother continued. "You'd expect to hear about certain important events in your daughter's life. A little mother-daughter honesty, if you will." Rory did not deem it the best moment to point out Lorelai's love triangle with her own mother and the truth. "Nothing special, just an idea of who might end up the father of your grandchildren. Stuff like that."

Rory dropped her head on the edge of her desk. "I'm sorry, Mom. I had no idea Logan was going to initiate dinner at Grandma's."

"Sorry because if he hadn't I would still be in the dark?"

"That's not what I meant," Rory protested.

"Were you going to let me know before or after he proposed?"

"He already did," she mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, Rory. I understand that you're growing up and you have your own life. That's fine and I think I've given the apron strings sufficient slack. But there are certain things that entail simple courtesy, like telling me who you're dating so I don't have to find out from my mother, who will not hesitate to gloat that she knew before I did when I have the misfortune to say 'Logan who?'" Lorelai fumed.

Though Rory felt guilty, her mother's constant feud with her grandmother irritated her. "So you're really upset because Grandma rubbed it in?"

"That is _not_ what this is about!"

"Look, Mom. I don't have the time right now. I'll see you at dinner," Rory snapped.

"This conversation is not over," Lorelai said sharply.

"Goodbye, Mom." Rory slammed her phone shut and resisted the urge to toss it across the room. With her luck, it would hit Doyle's computer, or, worse, Paris's. Standing, she shoved her notes and pens into her bag and stalked out of the office, only to run directly into her favourite person of the moment.

"Whoa, watch where you're storming," Logan said lightly, trying to steady them both.

Pulling from his grasp, she shot him a glare and continued down the hall.

"Easy," he called, jogging up beside her and matching her pace. "I'm sorry. I should have asked you first. I was just figured you would find some excuse or..." he trailed off, realizing that she was no longer at his side. Turning, he saw that she'd stopped a few steps behind.

"You had no right to do that without telling me, Logan. Do you have any idea how furious my mother is with me right now?"

His look was inscrutable. "Why is she angry, Rory?"

At his use of her name, she felt her stomach clench. Why, indeed? "You know I wasn't ready to tell her yet."

His eyes bored into hers but his voice remained even. "Why not?"

"This isn't the time, Logan . My grandparents are expecting us," she replied, looking away.

He took a step toward her, so there was barely an inch between their faces. "Why not?" he repeated.

She met his gaze and bit out, "Because I'm not ready."

"For...?"

This bone would not be dropped tonight, she realized. Tired of him tugging her strings and frustrated that he'd turned the tables on her—_she_ was the one who had a right to be angry!—Rory dropped her defences. "For a relationship with you!" she shouted, slightly vindicated by his wince at her volume. Pushing past him, she headed for the doors.

The conditions outside forced her to moderate her gait. Falling on one's ass while trying to stalk across ice was hardly the way to win an argument. As a result, he caught up to her easily. The campus was deserted, fresh snowfall dampening all sound. They walked in silence for a few minutes, before he asked, quietly, "Why aren't you ready?"

Rory sighed, briefly closing her eyes. "When I tell everyone, this becomes real. It means I let myself—" She stopped herself. "It means when you get tired of me, I get hurt."

"I'm not going to get tired of you."

She threw up her hands. "That's what you say now! But who knows how you'll feel in a week, or a month, or a year!"

"Who the hell knows how anybody will feel in a year!" His voice finally revealed his anger. "You can't live your life scared of the next moment, Rory."

"You're notorious, Logan . You haven't committed to a single girl since you've been at Yale."

"And you know this how?"

"A good journalist never reveals her sources."

He smiled tightly. "How many have you committed to?"

"More than you," she retorted.

This time Logan stopped, prompting her to do the same. "I don't lie," he said carefully. "I meant what I told you the other night. Whether you want this enough to take the chance that I'm telling the truth is your choice." He checked his watch. "I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes. Don't forget your notebook. My dad has agreed to grant you an interview," he added with a twist of arrogance, heading off toward his residence.

Finally giving in to her need to throw something, Rory dropped to her knees and angrily packed snow into a ball as tightly as she could. Rising, she channelled all her frustration into the snowball and hurled it at a nearby tree.

It missed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"_I think the wires have shut down for the evening, Ace."_

_Rory's eyes followed his voice to find __Logan_ _leaning lazily against the doorframe of the __Franklin_ _office. She couldn't help but smile at his presence. "Shouldn't you be out defacing snowmen or something?"_

_His smirk deepened and she immediately regretted whatever her comment had opened her up for. "Well," he said casually, entering the room, "The boys and I decided to recreate ourselves out of snow. As challenging as it is to reproduce such fine specimens, Finn decided to go one further and suggest that our clones be anatomically correct." Rory groaned and braced herself for the punch line. Logan, ignoring her reaction, perched on his desk across from her. "Unfortunately, after a trip to the grocery store, I had to concede."_

"_They were out of string beans?" Rory couldn't help asking, before slapping her hand over her mouth in shock. Where had that come from?_

_He grinned. "Actually, the cucumbers in stock weren't to my satisfaction. They're out of season, you know," he confided with a wink. Shrugging, he leaned back again. "I considered zucchini but Colin got to them first. Finn, on the other hand, opted for eggplant. And not your conventionally shaped eggplant, either," he added meaningfully._

"_That would explain the size of his car," Rory nodded sagely. _

"_Enough small talk," he said, standing. "We have to get you out of this office. Who knows when Paris and Doyle will seek to add spice to their sex lives," he looked around the room suspiciously._

"_Oh!" Rory exclaimed in disgust. She started packing her bag. "You definitely know how to clear a room."_

_Smiling in satisfaction, he let her pass through the door before shutting it behind him. Suddenly shy, Rory fell silent as they headed outside, remembering the previous night. _

_It had been a textbook date, and he had been at his charismatic, chivalrous best. Handling __Paris_ _with ease, he complimented her own attire and opened every door for her. She had half-expected a pretentious, upscale restaurant, pegging him as someone who liked to flash his means, but he surprised her by parking in front of a lively Thai noodlery. It was small and crowded, but the atmosphere was electric, the service charming, the décor eccentric and the food delicious. For once they had enjoyed an entire evening of conversation without animosity, though she was sure the wine hadn't hurt their cause. _

_Then Finn had called about a party and __Logan_ _had politely asked if she was interested. Though she was enjoying herself, she welcomed the suggestion, worried that more time alone with __Logan_ _might yet result in a fight. _

_How was she to know Marty would be bartending?_

_After recovering from _that_ argument, Rory had found __Logan_ _to let him know she was leaving. He'd insisted on walking her to her dorm, where things had gotten slightly awkward. Throughout the night they'd maintained a friendly, pressure-free banter. Suddenly, however, as he bade her goodnight at her door, it became a date, complete with all the will-he-kiss-me? tension. _

_He didn't. _

_Instead he smiled sweetly and thanked her for a fun night. A fun night, she had realized after shutting the door to her room and flinging herself on her bed, was apparently not enough. Apparently, she would have preferred he kiss her. _

_That particular revelation had made for a mostly sleepless night._

_The entire evening came back to her in the few minutes it took to reach the exit and she wondered what he was doing there, opening yet another door for her. _Back for more _fun_?_ she thought sourly, then laughed out loud at herself. A week ago she couldn't have imagined wanting __Logan_ _to kiss her._

_He raised an eyebrow at her laughter but she simply stepped by him, smiling. Her expression turned to awe, however, when the snow-covered campus came into view. Unable to contain herself, Rory hopped down the steps and spun around in delight. The snow fell in large, light flakes and she opened her mouth to catch them on her tongue, urging __Logan_ _to do the same. "Cuh onh, ee uh ow!" _

_His answer was to pelt her with a snowball. Gasping in outrage, she only increased his mirth by missing him in her attempt to return fire. "Now I see why you're such a bookworm, Ace!" he called, his taunt accompanied by another small white projectile exploding against her coat. _

"_You know what they say about people who don't fight well, don't you, Huntzberger?" Rory shot back._

"_They should join the National Guard?" _

"_They fight dirty!" she cried, lunging at him. His expression registered shock as her tackle landed them both on the ground. Scrambling to her knees before he could react, she quickly shoved snow down his collar._

_He tried to fend her off. "No fair!"_

_Rory pulled back to admire her handiwork, dissolving into giggles at the sight of the unflappable __Logan_ _Huntzberger covered in snow and sputtering. _

"_You think that's funny?" he cocked his head to the side. Despite the vulnerability of her situation sans-element-of-surprise, she couldn't stop laughing. She collapsed onto her back and __Logan_ _chose the merciful route, lying down beside her. _

_Sensing that he was looking at her, she turned her head toward him. "What?"_

"_I guess I am the jealous type."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

_At which point he kissed her. _

_Any cold she might have felt was melted away by his lips on hers and his fingertips against her cheek. He rolled onto his side and deepened the kiss before pulling away slowly. At the loss of his warmth, Rory was frozen in place. He smiled and her heart remembered to beat, trying to make up for lost time._

_All her nervousness rushed to the fore, and she started to sit up. "_ _Logan_ _…" _

"Wait_." With a hand to her shoulder, he easily prevented her attempt to rise. "I don't play games," he said seriously. "Any time I'm with a girl, she knows exactly what my intentions are from the beginning and that will not change with you." She felt her heart sink slightly. "Even though you _are_ different," he added. Sitting, he pulled her up beside him. "I like you, Rory and I'm not going to fuck this up. Not only am I terrified of your grandfather, but my parents would kill me." _

"_Are you asking me to go steady?" _

_He pondered the mischievous glint in her eyes. "I don't have a letterman jacket or a class ring to give you. I don't even have a pin."_

_"Trust me, the concept of pinning is not especially appealing."_

_His expression went from zero to cocky instantly. "Depends on who's doing the pinning, Ace."_

"_Don't get ahead of yourself," Rory rolled her eyes and started to stand._

"_Same goes for you," he tugged at her and she tumbled into his lap. _

"_We're going to freeze to death," she warned._

_"This is hardly the time to toss down a gauntlet, my dear." _

"_I'm_ cold_," she stated impatiently and, leaning in, kissed him silent._


End file.
